


Brothers

by jusrecht



Series: In Harmony [7]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3986269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In many ways, this was probably the worst-kept secret in the musical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

In many ways, this was probably the worst-kept secret in the musical.

Their fellow actors knew. The director knew. The musicians knew. The production staff knew. Almost everyone involved in _Robin Hood_ knew.

They simply never spoke about it. Some were muzzled by disapproval, others by discomfort. Others still held their tongue in the name of fellowship, a wordless expression of sympathy for a love so unfortunate in a society so unforgiving. Either way, everyone realised that silence was definitely the best policy.

Gunmyung, when his meandering mind chanced upon the subject, always straddled the blurred line between anxiety and pity. He had a friend once—saw what life did to such a gentle generous soul who happened to love outside the norms. As if love were to be dictated by rules. As if the heart had no say in the matter, as long as it was ‘appropriate’.

These were all the thoughts that wreaked havoc in his head when he walked into a changing room, in search of his missing bow and quiver, and found his two friends instead. Kijoon had his back to the door, but Gunmyung only needed one look at Kyuhyun’s face to realise that he was walking into an argument.

And a very serious one at that.

Gunmyung wasted no time to react. He turned away from the scene and shouted down the hall, as loudly as possible, “It’s not here. Have you checked the left wing?”

Someone hollered a reply back at him. Gunmyung was barely listening. His heart was hammering too loudly in his chest and he could feel the violent trembling in his hand as he forced himself to move and close the door. Then it was the arduous task of putting one foot before the other, with a mind still numb from shock and panic, directing his legs to walk away.

Gunmyung spent the next hour or so straining his tattered focus on rehearsal. His strong concentration was an invaluable aid, but time and again, he found himself teetering at the edge of distraction. Suffice to say, he was beyond relieved when his turn was over.

But then he caught the sight of Kijoon, sitting alone in the fifth row, cap pulled down low to cover almost the entirety of his face. Gunmyung frowned. It might be effective to discourage approach, but he was willing to bet a year's paycheck that Kijoon was not sleeping.

For a moment, he stood in indecision. The most obvious argument was, it was not his business. Both Kijoon and Kyuhyun were adults—had been adults for a long time. They did not need his meddling. And the last thing Gunmyung wanted was to meddle in affairs that didn’t concern him.

And yet he _was_ —concerned. He saw the way Kyuhyun acted, his exuberant laugh, too loud, too brash even for the childish, incorrigible Philip. And then there was Kijoon, his reserved nature a veil that would allow glimpses of emotions only at the rarest times or on stage. Gunmyung sighed. His decision was made when he snatched two bottles of mineral water and ambled toward the audience seats.

“Water?”

Kijoon slanted him a look from under the brim of his cap. “Thanks,” he muttered, the corners of his lips lifting briefly as he took the offered drink.

Gunmyung slumped into an empty seat next to him, brain rushing from word to word to breach the subject, and yet none seemed remotely suitable. He wasted half a minute or so taking swig after swig from his bottle before finally settling for a direct plunge.

“Do you want to talk?”

The suggestion immediately brought tension to Kijoon's posture. “Not really.” His answer was no less stiff.

“Okay.”

They spent the next few minutes in silence. Gunmyung fished out his phone and busied himself with it—replying to chat messages from his wife, checking email, Twitter, then Instagram, then rechecking Twitter, and Twitter again, and Twitter again until his thumb went numb from scrolling. He was about to log into an email account he hadn’t touched in months when Kijoon finally broke their silence.

“You’re going to keep pretending the elephant in the room doesn’t exist, aren’t you?”

Gunmyung shrugged, adding a quick grin to soften the ground. “Hey, it’s your elephant. I’m just an innocent bystander here.”

Kijoon snorted, a shade of amusement trickling back into his grim expression. It disappeared a second later, and Gunmyung knew exactly why when he followed Kijoon’s gaze to the stage, where Kyuhyun was rehearsing his part with Dana.

A new thought struck him. “Oh God. Please, please don’t tell me that this is your first fight.”

Kijoon rolled his eyes at him. “Not in that way. We've had our disagreements, but... well, you're not entirely wrong. We never really fought before.”

Gunmyung could easily believe it. Kyuhyun had too much respect for Kijoon, and Kijoon… well, he was _Kijoon_. He would rather walk away from a fight and receive the brand of a coward than make it worse. Gunmyung knew very well how much he hated discord.

“Dare I ask why?”

Kijoon said nothing for a long time, eyes fixed on the stage. It was only after Kyuhyun had finished his current number that he answered, “He wanted me to meet his family.”

Gunmyung held his breath. Now they were treading into uncharted territories—and these were the ones he wasn’t sure he wanted to tread. For all he knew, any response, any reaction could set a bomb off and damage their friendship, because if there was any topic too sensitive for casual talks, this would definitely be _it_.

“His sister for a start,” Kijoon continued, seemingly unaware of his discomfort. “But… I’m not sure if it’ll be wise,”

Gunmyung remained silent. Words jostled against one another in his head, creating jumbled collages that hardly made sense, if at all. He desperately wanted to say something, but his tongue stayed heavy and useless until Kijoon elbowed him in the ribs.

“Say something.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he scrambled hastily for a response. “And I’m afraid I’m gonna say the wrong thing. It’s not like I have the experience here.”

“Don’t you love your wife?”

“What– _of course_ I do, but I don’t think my situation can exactly–”

“You love her, and that’s why you married her, right?”

“Oh.” The new thread of topic surprised him. “Wait, is he thinking about marriage?”

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Kijoon growled, sinking even lower in his seat. “Hell, I don’t even know what _I’m_ thinking.”

“But you do love him, right?”

“Very much,” Kijoon sighed, an ironic smile touching his lips. “And much more than anyone realises, I think, even myself. But it’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying it is.” Gunmyung seized a moment of inspiration. “But for what it’s worth, let me just say one thing. We’ve known each other for, what, eight, ten years? And all throughout that time, I’ve never seen you as happy as when you are with him.”

Kijoon fixed him a long, inscrutable look. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you already know the answer,” Gunmyung told him, rising to his feet when the director called his name to return on stage. “You know yourself, maknae-ah, and that’s the most important thing. All that’s left now is to talk to him.”

Five minutes later, Gunmyung saw Kijoon pulling a nervous, confused Kyuhyun backstage. He waited ten, fifteen, twenty minutes—deliberately dragging his syllables and singing more slowly than usual—until they finally re-emerged, looking much happier with themselves and the world in general. Kijoon’s hand, he couldn't help but notice, already returned to where it belonged: casually settled on Kyuhyun's lower back.

Grinning to himself, Gunmyung shook his head and continued singing about a storm that was forever coming.

 

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I just really, really, really want to write something with Gunmyung calling Kijoon 'maknae-ah' /lolbye


	2. Mini Sequel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mini sequel to the "Brothers" fic. Part of my nanowrimo project, which is to finish all the unfinished joonkyu fics orz

It was not one of his brightest moments. 

The thing was, Kijoon hated quarrels as much as he hated a pile of dirty dishes—and that meant going out of his way to avoid them as much as he could. But every now and then, a moment of weakness would catch him off guard, like that one time when Kyuhyun insisted on channelling his inner master chef and making a full three-course meal in Kijoon’s kitchen. 

And now he had Kyuhyun looking all sad and teary, not to mention giving off a hurt, kicked, abandoned puppy vibes after their less-than-colossal-but-not-exactly-small fight and all the harsh words flung between them—and suddenly there was fear in his eyes, fear and panic and about eighty-nine shades of hopelessness crammed together in those expressive eyes–

–and Kijoon discovered that he hated _that_ the most, above everything else. 

Which, in turn, brought him to his next course of action, which apparently involved his grabbing and dragging Kyuhyun out of practice and into his changing room, followed by pushing him against the wall and then kissing him senseless. 

There was a faint noise of surprise and panic coming from the younger man. Theoretically, everyone was locked in rehearsal and the regular staff usually did not wander into the actors’ rooms, but then again Kijoon hadn’t exactly _checked_ before deciding to grab his boyfriend and have his ways with him.

To his disappointment, a pressing demand for air forced them to end the kiss more quickly than he had intended. They were both breathless, and Kijoon was pleased to note that Kyuhyun was floating somewhere between dazed and confused, all very lovely with his flushed cheeks and parted lips. 

“Are you crazy–”

“Now we can continue fighting,” he quickly explained.

“What?” Kyuhyun’s confusion seemed to have multiplied tenfold instead.

“Because I don’t mind if we have a disagreement sometimes,” Kijoon continued in a calmer, more placating tone. “They say it’s perfectly normal. But I also don’t want you to doubt my love for you, so I’ll just do this again.” And the second kiss landed on Kyuhyun’s lips, swallowing his surprised gasp. “In fact, can we continue the fight while I do this? 

The third followed, and then the fourth, fifth, until Kyuhyun smiled and giggled and the sight of him smiling was a balm to every painful throb and unpleasant jolt in Kijoon’s heart. Gunmyung had been right, of course. He did know the answer.

“I don’t want to fight,” Kyuhyun finally said in a small, timid voice, his hands still curling loosely on Kijoon’s waist. “I hate it when you’re upset with me.” 

“I’m not upset with you,” Kijoon told him with a sigh, and when Kyuhyun shot him a doubtful glance, added, “Look, we had a fight. Whatever uncomfortable feelings you have in there, I’m feeling those too, so let’s try something different, shall we. Why don’t you come to my place later and we’ll talk?” 

A pair of large, hopeful eyes greeted his offer. “You’re really not upset?” Kyuhyun asked again, this time with a small, shy smile.

Kijoon resisted an urge to roll his eyes. “No,” he said firmly, adding a light, playful slap to Kyuhyun’s ass and earning himself a yelp and a reproachful look in return—infinitely more preferable than the black clouds they had been swimming in the entire morning. “And you cannot ask me such a silly question again until ten years from now.”

Kyuhyun's eyes widened, but before he could fully process the declaration, Kijoon had quickly disentangled himself and slipped out of the door.

“Hyung, wait, what did you mean with–”

Kijoon grinned to himself. They would have that serious discussion, but he’d let Kyuhyun wonder a bit for now.

 

_**End** _  



End file.
